


Flicker and Float

by moondustings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Coming Out, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5591707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondustings/pseuds/moondustings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I see.” Merlin paused and considered, narrowing his eyes. “You know, Elena’s right — you have been acting very strangely this whole trip.”</p>
<p>‘I wasn’t prepared for you to be here,’ Arthur thought. ‘To be here with me, this whole time… thought you’d be in Ealdor… thought I’d have more time to sort out the perfect way to… the right words…’</p>
<p>Pathetic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flicker and Float

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunnysworld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnysworld/gifts).



> Happy Merlin Holidays, bunnysworld! :D I hope this little piece of Christmas fluff brings you many warm fuzzy feelings, and that you're having the very most cozy, joyous, and peaceful of holiday seasons. <33333
> 
> Thank you so very much to my amazing roommate, K, who put up with my blasting Christmas music through the house starting in September "for science"; to my wonderful beta and cheerleader, G, for refusing to text me back until I met my deadlines (and for her general helpfulness, awesomeness, and support); and a VERY special thank you to our spectacular mods for their infinite kindness, encouragement, and patience beyond measure — and, of course, for hosting this wonderful fest for us again this year. :') <3
> 
> {Title taken from Coldplay's "Christmas Lights"}

  **____________________________________________________**

 

_Up above, candles on air flicker_

_Oh, they flicker and they float_

_And I'm up here holding on_

_To all those chandeliers of hope_

 

_**____________________________________________________** _

 

“ _DRINK!_ ” 

Arthur nearly tripped over his own pacing feet at the sudden passionate outburst from the next room, followed by a “Truly _pathetic!_ ” from a mock-disdainful Leon and an explosion of teasing applause and merry whistling from Gwaine.

Concentration broken, Arthur stared toward the warm, flickering glow of the soft light and quick, happy shadows bouncing about in the living room. He sighed and went back to his pacing, his overly tight, ridiculously fancy shoes making annoying creaky sounds against the hardwood of the kitchen floor. Why Morgana thought it necessary to enforce a black tie dress code for a sleepover in a cabin in the middle of the woods was beyond him. 

_“It’s our last night,”_ she had insisted emphatically when he’d tried to get out of it. _“It’s tradition!”_

Nevermind that of their four annual Christmas trips, this was only the second Arthur had actually been able to make it to, and that this had most definitely _not_ been a requirement then. He was deeply suspicious that it ever had been before now.

Arthur sighed again and stopped his pacing, placing his damp palms flat against the cool marble of the countertop. His jacket was hot; his tie far too tight. 

He took a deep breath and started again, whispering the words to himself in the dark.

“Merlin,” he said, and nearly choked. He furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat, frustrated. Who chokes on a whisper?

“ _Mer_ lin,” he tried again, determined. “I hope you know how terribly sorry I am that you had to miss Christmas with your mum because of this wretched storm and all, but… I… I’m very glad that… Jesus Christ,” he whisper-cursed. “‘ _How terribly sorry’? ‘This wretched storm’?_ Since when am I so bloody formal, what is _wrong_ with me?”

He dropped his head into his hands and peeked down through his fingers at the answering squeak of his shoe.

“It’s these fucking clothes,” he growled miserably to himself, just as the light to the kitchen flicked on.

“Who’s fucking what?”

Arthur jerked up to find Elena staring at him curiously from the doorway. Arthur sighed in relief.

“Oh… nothing,” Arthur waved off. “I was just getting some eggnog. Want some?”

Elena jaunted happily to Arthur’s side and hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, her dangling legs _swish-swish_ ing the shiny green material of her cocktail dress. Arthur really looked at it for the first time, taking in the intricate details of each of the many tiny happy gingerbread men embroidered on the skirt. Elena had probably made the dress herself.

“No thanks,” she answered. “Eggnog is disgusting.”

Arthur sighed again. “It really is.”

Elena smiled at him. “So what are you doing in here?” She stopped dangling her legs and stared at him very seriously. “You nervous?”

Arthur jolted toward her. “What?”

“The _game_ ,” she replied, laughing and nudging his shoulder with hers. “It’s Christmas Carol Pictionary next.” She gave him an odd look. “What’s _with_ you? You’re acting very strange.”

“Nothing!” he answered — too quickly, too loudly.

Elena stared at him with that quizzical look for a little too long. 

“Alright, well… come back in then, will you? Merlin will be very upset if I dare show my face without you.”

Arthur’s heart flipped over at the mention of Merlin’s name. 

“He thinks you drowned in the eggnog,” Elena continued in her serious, dreamy tone. “He would have come back for you himself, of course, but it was his turn in dirty charades, and Morgana nearly had his head just for glancing toward the kitchen instead of paying attention, you know how she is.”

“Oh yes,” intoned Arthur, glaring again toward his godforsaken too tight shoes. “ _I know_.”

“So come on then!” Elena exclaimed decidedly, hopping off the counter and wrapping both hands around his bicep. “It’s boys against girls, and they won’t start without us.”

Arthur allowed Elena to drag him with her into the living room, where she promptly abandoned him in favor of a running leap into Lance’s lap on the furthest sofa. Lance let out an audible “Ooph!” on impact, but was smiling into the first of many kisses Elena was already showering upon him.

Arthur’s eyes drifted over the forms of his closest friends, flicking quickly past Freya and Percy making out unabashedly next to the Christmas tree, and just barely catching Gwaine gesturing suggestively between them and Vivian, who merely glared back at him from her frozen position across the room.

Mithian laughed softly from her spot atop Leon’s knee as he whispered something in her ear. At the front of the room, Morgana propped up an enormous easel and drawing station to meticulous perfection while simultaneously flirting shamelessly with Gwen, if Gwen’s flushed face half hidden behind her hand was anything to go by.

Looking around at all of them, nearly everyone he most dearly loved together at once, happy and safe, Arthur felt his heart swell heavily in his chest. Perhaps feeling his gaze, Gwen glanced up at him from her spot splayed sideways on the floor at Morgana’s feet and waved to him, her engagement ring sparkling in the soft twinkle of the tree lights. Arthur smiled back and raised a hand in return, then quickly resumed his search. He was on a mission.

At last, he found him — the one person he most needed to see. The one person making it impossible for him to truly enjoy these perfect moments (or to eat… or sleep… or function at any basic human level of competence) because he was just too damned distracted by the constant barrage of the very inconvenient butterflies which had apparently taken up permanent residence in his stomach.

As Elyan stood from his spot on the sofa nearest the roaring fireplace, Merlin’s dark head had appeared. Merlin was taller, but Elyan was much bigger — though Arthur guessed that probably everyone was. Merlin was absurdly small for such a tall man. It was ridiculous.

Elyan clapped Arthur on the back as he passed him by with a “Be right back, mate, out of eggnog." Merlin turned, curious to see who Elyan was speaking to, and his entire being seemed to light up at the discovery that it was Arthur; Arthur felt like his own knees had inexplicably disappeared.

As much as Arthur might have hated the ludicrous dress code two minutes ago, he was forced (as an honest, honorable man) to reconsider all that now, looking at Merlin. Merlin, whose tuxedo hugged and cut his body perfectly, in a way that made Arthur’s breath catch. Merlin, whose dark, characteristically disheveled hair seemed suddenly perfect, even intentional (though Arthur knew it wasn’t) in this context, and as it shone in the firelight; whose bow tie leaned just slightly crooked. Arthur smirked at that and, realizing he had no idea how long he’d been standing there, finally moved slowly toward his best friend, closing the space between them as he sat down in the spot next to Merlin that Elyan had left.

“Eggnog,” Merlin grimaced, shaking his head.

“Ugh, I know,” Arthur agreed.

“I thought that’s where _you_ went? To get more eggnog?”

“Oh… yes… well—”

“Even though you hadn’t actually had any in the first place. You know, to qualify the 'more' part.”

Arthur rubbed his knuckles nervously. “Well, you know… Gwen’s recipe… I wanted to give it another chance.”

Merlin nodded slowly, clearly in no way buying this nonsensical explanation.

“I see.” Merlin paused and considered, narrowing his eyes. “You know, Elena’s right — you have been acting very strangely this whole trip.”

_‘I wasn’t prepared for you to be here_ ,’ Arthur thought. _‘To be here with me, this whole time… three whole days… it’s been three years since we’ve been on this trip at the same time, together… thought you’d be in Ealdor… thought I’d have more time to sort out the perfect way to… the right words…’_

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, laughing lightheartedly. “Hellooo? Anyone home in there, or… wait, what am I saying — of course not, no one’s ever home in there,” he teased, knocking lightly on Arthur’s skull for effect. Arthur nearly shivered at the touch. 

Pathetic.

“Elena thinks you’re nervous,” piped in Leon from out of nowhere. “She’s been telling everyone to be _extra_ kind to you.”

“Because of your terrible drawing and all!” Gwaine yelled from across the room, apparently able to tear himself away from his miserably failing attempt at flirting with Vivian long enough to chime in on the matter.

Arthur shot an incredulous look at Elena, who merely smiled back at him sincerely, apparently oblivious to his humiliation.

“ _And_ terrible singing,” Elyan contributed on his way back into the room. “Don’t forget that.”

“How could we ever?” Lance asked in mock horror, pretending to shiver and making Elena laugh.

Arthur threw his hands into the air and slumped back dramatically onto the couch.

“Oh no, by all means, don’t hold back on my account! My own _teammates_ … Jesus… thank you all so much, truly.” 

“I think Arthur’s got a lovely voice!” provided Gwen.

“Yeah,” agreed Morgana, arms now wrapped around Gwen's waist from behind her on the floor. “We were going to ask you to sing at our wedding.”

“ _What_?” asked Percy incredulously, the sheer absurdity of this pronouncement apparently shocking enough to burst his intimate bubble with Freya for a moment. 

“Just kidding,” said Morgana darkly, swaying Gwen back and forth slightly on the rug.

“Morgana!” chastised Gwen, smacking her hands lightly as the room burst into hysterical laughter.

Arthur said nothing, instead dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling in silence.

“Oh baby brother, don’t be so dramatic!” Morgana called over the continuing laughter. Arthur thought that just might be the most ironic order Morgana had ever given. “You can’t be the best at _everything_ , after all.”

Amidst the room’s continued buzz of merriment at his expense, Arthur felt a hand touch his knee.

“Hey,” Merlin said quietly. “ _I’m_ still on your side. I believe in you.”

In spite of himself, Arthur smiled.

“So let’s get on with it then, shall we?” suggested Leon excitedly. 

“Yes, yes, everyone, break time is officially over,” agreed Morgana, slithering out from behind Gwen and standing up at vigilant attention alarmingly quickly. “Split up! Girls all on this side, boys on the other, you know the drill!”

There was a great shuffling about as everyone rearranged themselves excitedly.

“It’s really not fair you know, you and Gwen being actual artists,” Arthur protested.

“Arthur, it’s _just a game_ ,” Merlin reminded him with the emphatic tone these matters tended to require. Arthur just glared at him and rolled his eyes.

“Easy for you to say…”

Once they were all settled, Morgana gave a very detailed, very unnecessary overview of all the rules of the game they’d played a million times before.

“Remember, your goal is to get your team to guess the Christmas carol from _only_ your drawings — no acting out, speaking, or gesturing of any kind allowed.”

No one spoke as she continued her passionate speech, the seriousness of which was perhaps thrown slightly askew by the enormous red Santa hat now donning her head.

“You will have two minutes on the clock from start to finish each round. As soon as you think you know the song your team's artist is drawing, _start singing it_ , and don’t stop until _everyone_ on your team has been singing for _at least ten seconds_. If your team guesses correctly, you win the round and the other team must take a shot. If your team fails to guess correctly, cannot keep the song going for the full ten seconds,  _or_ if only _part_ of your team is able to sing correctly, you lose the round, and _your_ team must all take a shot. The game continues until one team hits ten points, or until everyone is too drunk to play anymore — whichever comes first.” This last part she delivered with in an ominous near purr.

“Alright already, we’re _ready_ , we’re _prepared_ , we’re fit to conquer — let’s do this!” shouted Gwaine, pumping both fists in the air. The whole room burst into a chorus of cheers.

Half an hour later, Arthur had borne witness to several triumphs and defeats alike from both sides, the most memorable of the latter probably a tie between Gwaine costing them what should have been the easiest point grab in the history of the game when he accidentally mixed up the lyrics to Santa Baby with some other much more profane song he’d picked up God knew where; and Elena being disqualified for forgetting the “drawing only” rule in her enthusiasm and bursting into some kind of tipsy interpretive dance moves instead. Twice.

Arthur was beginning to feel rather tipsy himself, and had lost track of the score some time ago — a phenomenon normally incredibly out of character for him; but tonight, his mind was elsewhere.

“Merlin…” he started, a little surprised to find he was indeed speaking out loud.

Merlin managed to tear his bewildered gaze away from the sight that was Mithian carefully drawing what appeared to be a gigantic sea monster inhaling a pile of broken chairs and met Arthur’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

He _really_ had to stop smiling at him like that. All warm and genuine and familiar and… _Merlin_.

“Um…” He jumped a bit and then paused as the guessing players on the women’s team suddenly all began shouting different, seemingly random songs at once, and Leon broke into a fit laughter. Mithian shot him a look, and he stopped laughing… mostly. Mithian could only hold onto her indignation for so long, though, and broke into a smile herself. Elena gave up singing and snorted with her own laughter.

Arthur swallowed and turned back to Merlin, who was still looking at him. Arthur’s stomach did the flippy thing again. 

Arthur clapped his hands together too loudly in what he knew was a horribly awkward attempt at being casual.

“I was just wondering if—“

“Arthur!” Freya shouted. “It’s your turn!”

“Oh god…” Arthur groaned. Suddenly big hands were clapping him roughly from all directions, every one of his teammates cheering and calling his name. As he stood to face the music, he felt a gentler, reassuring hand brush his back — softly, just for a moment. Arthur felt the heat of it linger much longer than should have been possible, or allowed.

“Ready?” Gwen asked, eyes sparkling like the beading on her vintage floor-length gown. "You have your song picked out?"

“Ready,” Arthur replied, nodding, not ready at all.

“Three… two… one…” everyone chanted. “ _GO!”_

Arthur whirled toward the easel and practically stabbed the brightly colored marker into the paper in his rush of nervous adrenaline. Before he even knew what he was doing, his pen was flying awkwardly across the paper, forming what he hoped against hope would eventually become a discernible image. 

“A… needle?!” Percy threw out, puzzled.

“An ice pick?” Gwaine guessed, equally perplexed.

There was a mixture of mumbling and silence as Arthur attempted to scribble more detail into the drawing.

“An awl!” Lance shouted in sudden recognition. Arthur threw his arm out in shocked triumph toward the beautiful carpenter. God bless Lance!

“ALL,” Elyan exclaimed. “Songs that start with _all_ , alright Arthur! Keep it coming!”

Arthur drew a rather terrifying, alien-looking eye as quickly as his hand would possibly allow.

“ _EYE!_ ” yelled Gwaine.

Arthur threw the same pointed-arm confirmation in Gwaine’s direction, and his team cheered, newly invigorated. 

Arthur glanced at the clock. He was already running out of time. His heart sank.

“ _I don’t want a lot for Christmas; there is just one thing I need…_ ”

Arthur turned toward the voice. He was certain his heart had actually stopped this time.

Merlin was staring at him, rather intensely, from his place beside the fire. 

“ _I don’t care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree…_ ”

For a moment that felt suspended in time, the room seemed to stop and collectively hold its breath in absolute quiet; except for that soft voice… Merlin’s voice. Merlin’s voice _singing_ to Arthur; deep ocean blue eyes burning straight into his own. 

For a moment, it was just them, and Arthur felt something stir so very deep inside himself, he couldn’t believe he'd wasted so much time doubting that Merlin just might feel the same way he did. For a moment, he _knew_ it. Just for an instant. A sudden flare of hope he actually _believed_ in… because it was obvious, wasn’t it?

At least... _maybe_...

Arthur was once again abruptly startled out of his own thoughts as his entire team whole-heartedly joined Merlin’s chorus.

“ _I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace;_

_Santa Claus won't make me happy with a toy on Christmas day!_

_I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know;_

_Oh, make my wish come true… all I want for Christmas is you!”_

_“Yooouuuu, baaaabyyyyy!”_ added Gwaine passionately, arms thrown out toward Vivian, only to realize upon reopening his eyes that she had thrown _herself_ passionately on top of Elyan, who seemed rather surprised, but very much obliged. 

Gwaine’s jaw dropped, Gwen gasped loudly enough to be heard over everyone else’s shocked screaming, and the whole room cheered.

“Oi!” Gwaine shouted, lighthearted as ever, but bravado faltering just a bit. “Am I really the _only one_ who doesn’t get a Christmas ki—” 

The rest of his sentence was cut off by Leon grabbing his face in both hands and kissing him thoroughly on the mouth. The room exploded into the loudest round of applause yet.

When he broke away, Gwaine was smiling his most genuine smile of the night. “I always knew you were carrying a torch for me,” he managed through what just may even have been the tiniest hint of a blush.

“You’ve got the mistletoe sweater, mate!” Leon replied, standing back up as Gwaine stared at him from where he leaned against the front of a fluffy, oversized armchair. “I could only resist for so long, obviously.”

Leon ruffled Gwaine’s hair affectionately and then trotted back to Mithian, who was laughing happily.

Merlin, seeming to barely even notice the madness unfolding around them, had continued to simply stare at Arthur in that same rather intense way; like he was trying to fathom something out about him.

Arthur took a deep breath. He walked slowly, all creaky shoes and pounding heart, over to sit back down next to Merlin.

Arthur cleared his throat and stared down at his clasped hands. “So…” he began. “Nicely done, there. I thought for sure I was finished… but you got it.”

Merlin nodded. “Well, Lance did the dirty work. An _awl_ , Arthur? Really?” Arthur huffed a small laugh and looked down at the floor. “I only took a small risk after that. I mean, I was _pretty_ sure… and we were running out of time… it was only a little leap of faith.”

Arthur swallowed hard, then looked slowly back up at Merlin. He stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge whether Merlin had actually meant for that sentence to sound so loaded.

He cleared his throat again.

“Hey, I happened to think the ‘ _awl_ ’ thing was quite creative, under the circumstances.”

“It was brilliant,” Merlin said earnestly.

Arthur gazed at him some more — the way the dancing shadows played across his face, making his cheekbones look even _more_ pronounced, the line of his jaw even stronger… the way his enormous, ridiculous ears glowed even more obvious in the firelight.

Arthur made a decision.

“Come upstairs with me?” he asked.

Merlin looked startled.

“I — your gift. It’s up in our room,” Arthur hastily explained, feeling his face grow hot.

_‘Our room_ ,’ thought Arthur, his choice of words embarrassing him more by the second. It wasn’t his fault Merlin hadn’t known he’d be coming til the last minute, when his flight home to Ealdor was officially cancelled due to the snowstorm making its merry way across the country. He’d had to share a room with _someone_ , for God’s sake!

“Seems like a good time to slip away,” Merlin said, glancing about the room. No one was paying any attention to them at the moment. “They might not even notice if we’re quick.”

Arthur looked around, too. The raucous of the competition had faded out as everyone had broken off in pairs and small groups for the moment, murmuring and laughing softly among themselves — or kissing shamelessly under a mistletoe-decked doorframe, as was the case with Gwen and Morgana.

Actual, professionally-sung Christmas carols played softly in the background now, emanating from the vintage record player in the corner.

“Is that strange for you?” Merlin asked. 

“What?”

Merlin nodded toward the ornately carved wooden archway under which Morgana and Gwen stood. Arthur took a moment just to watch them. Gwen was listening with rapt attention to something Morgana was murmuring to her, a look of complete and total adoration on her face. Morgana reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Gwen’s ear; Gwen reached up with both hands to curve around Morgana’s neck, pushing into her hair, and giggled softly as Morgana bent to kiss her again. Above them, the delicate bunch of mistletoe seemed to glow in the light from the nearby candle sconces.

Morgana pulled back from the kiss to press her forehead to Gwen’s for a moment. Their eyes both closed, they looked… peaceful. Complete.

Arthur smiled and turned back to Merlin.

“Oh, you mean because of that time Morgana set me up with her new assistant, then fell madly in love with her herself and stole her away? No, not at all.”

Merlin snorted a laugh at Arthur’s dramatized play at false sarcasm, causing Arthur to break and laugh, too. Of their group’s innumerable favorite jokes at Arthur’s expense, this one took the cake — but only because, luckily, Arthur had taken the whole thing in lighthearted stride, and now he even thought it was funny, too.

“It’ll definitely make an interesting story for their grandkids someday,” he’d said once, a few weeks after it had all happened; and that was basically that. He and Gwen had only been very casually dating for a short time, after all, and had both felt they were better suited as friends anyway; and Arthur knew Morgana would never hurt him on purpose.

Even still, more than three years later, and she still felt terribly about it. Somewhere along the line, it had seemingly become her singular goal to “make it up to” Arthur, no matter how desperately and continually he tried to convince her that it was entirely unnecessary. Every few months, like clockwork, Morgana was at it again, matchmaking like it was an Olympic sport — Find Arthur’s Soulmate (And Then Shove Her at Him With the Force of 1,000 Burning Suns).

There weren’t many women left in their social circle (or their professional lives… or on the continent, probably) he hadn’t gone on at least one awkward date with by this point.

He hadn’t yet figured out a way to break it to Morgana that he was gay. Or, more importantly, that he was madly, achingly, head over heels, fucking _stupidly_ in love with someone already — with Merlin.

“We should probably get upstairs before they notice we’re talking about them,” Merlin said, breaking Arthur’s train of thought. “If you still want to.”

Arthur gestured for Merlin to lead the way, and then followed him quickly out of the room and quietly up the wide wooden staircase to their shared bedroom.

Once Merlin was inside, Arthur closed the door as softly as possible behind him.

“Alright,” Merlin said excitedly, his voice nearly back to normal volume behind the thick wood of the door. “Where is it?!”

Arthur rolled his eyes and moved toward his luggage up against the far wall. He took a few extra moments pretending to rifle through his things, as if he didn’t know exactly where Merlin’s gift was, tucked safely away in its own suitcase pocket. Once he had it, gripped carefully between both hands, he slowly stood and turned back to Merlin, now sitting on the edge of the king sized sleigh bed they’d been platonically sharing the last two nights (to the casual agony of Arthur), patiently waiting for him. 

“Now, don’t get too excited,” Arthur warned as Merlin broke into an enormous smile, his formally-wrapped body practically vibrating with anticipation. “It’s really nothing much.”

“Well, no matter what, it’s got to be better than that mini handheld vacuum contraption you got me for my birthday that time.”

Arthur groaned. He may have been trying just a little too hard to cover up his feelings for Merlin with that one. It had been over two years, and Merlin still refused to let it go.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said, sitting down next to him and handing over the small rectangular package. “Just... open it.”

Merlin waggled his eyebrows, and then began undoing the dark red velvet bow Arthur had rather impressively tied around the box.

As Merlin peeled back the shiny golden paper, Arthur’s heart pounded, butterflies in his middle fluttering up a storm.

Merlin pulled the top off the box, letting out a soft gasp, followed by a murmured “oh my god” as he lifted out the dark-stained heavy wooden picture frame. Lance had helped him make it.

“Oh my God,” Merlin said again, fingers brushing lightly over the photo behind the glass. It was a beautiful black and white print (courtesy of Freya’s home darkroom) — a candid shot of all of them together in the same living room downstairs, playing Christmas karaoke beside the tree, brightly colored lights glowing white in the colorless photo. It was from their first trip here three years ago. The first and last time Arthur and Merlin had both been here together, before now.

In the photo, everyone sat huddled and laughing on the floor around the current performers, Arthur and Merlin, the only ones standing. In their matching penguin sweaters Morgana had insisted they wear (her preferred “tradition” of the time: matching teams), Merlin’s green and Arthur’s red, they thoroughly humiliated themselves to the tune of “O Holy Night”. Or rather, Merlin did, his mic-free arm thrown straight up into the air, eyes squinted closed, enthusiastically belting out the most dramatic “night divine” of the chorus; Arthur just stood next to him in awe, lips slightly parted in a disbelieving laugh, gazing fondly at the side of Merlin’s face.

“I can’t believe you have this,” Merlin breathed. “I remember this.”

_‘Me too,'_  Arthur wanted to say. _‘It’s the moment I knew I was falling for you.’_

“I wish I still had that horrible sweater,” Merlin laughed, still stroking the photo. “It got lost with all my luggage that time at the airport.”

“I could knit you a new one,” Arthur offered, only half joking.

Merlin’s head snapped toward him. “You _knit_? Since when do you knit?!”

Arthur felt his face flush. “Elena’s taught me a little. I can’t guarantee it would be exactly the same as the original, of course, but… I could try.”

Merlin stared at him in disbelief for a moment, and then shook his head as he looked back down at the photo. “And here I thought I knew everything about you." He paused for the space of a long breath. "You are full of surprises, Arthur Pendragon.”

He looked back up very seriously at Arthur, gesturing softly toward the frame. “This is _perfect_. Thank you so much, really… I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” he returned softly. “Happy Christmas, Merlin.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Merlin still staring lovingly at the photo; Arthur staring at Merlin.

Merlin cleared his throat. “Now I really wish I’d gotten you something.”

Arthur took a deep breath.

“I thought I’d made it clear earlier tonight,” Arthur murmured. “There’s only one thing I really want.”

Merlin looked over at him. “Oh, I — Arthur… I was kidding. Of course I got you a gift, you prat,” he quickly explained, voice breathy and quick.

Arthur felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Oh,” he said, awkwardly rising from the edge of the bed. “I… of course. I was kidding, too, Merlin — I mean… I hadn’t meant—”

“Where are you going?” Merlin asked, now standing up, too.

Arthur cleared his throat, face burning, refusing to make eye contact. “Nowhere,” he exclaimed too brightly, voice nearly cracking in embarrassment. “I just—”

Merlin grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning Arthur to face him. “Come back here, you idiot,” he said, and for one more moment Arthur was utterly confused, surprise and self-consciousness written across his face — and then the next, Merlin was kissing him, and all of that melted away.

If Arthur’s heart had flipped before, and sped, and stopped, it positively floated now. Arthur floated.

Merlin’s lips, warmer and softer than Arthur had ever dared allow himself to imagine, moved gently against Arthur’s, with a tenderness that made his chest ache.

Merlin moved gently closer to him, their bodies now flush together. The effect of being able to feel the pressure of Merlin’s chest, warm and strong, pushing against his as they both breathed rough and shallow, nearly overwhelmed him.

Merlin curved one hand into Arthur’s hair, placing the other on his chest between them. Arthur covered this hand with his own, and tried to convince himself, overwarm and drowsy from the alcohol buzzing through his veins, and all of this, and Merlin… that he wasn’t dreaming. That this was actually happening. 

Finally.

Merlin deepened the kiss, infusing even more intensity and passion into the moment, like magic; and then suddenly pulled back.

It took Arthur a moment to open his eyes. When he did, Merlin was gazing back into them with what Arthur imagined were probably the same myriad of emotions swirling around his own.

“Your heart’s beating so fast,” he told Arthur, stroking his chest.

Arthur shivered.

“You know,” Merlin said, voice low. “Those sweaters were pretty fabulous, there’s no denying…” Arthur laughed, and Merlin moved them back toward the bed as he spoke. “But I think I like this penguin suit even better,” he proclaimed, slipping his hands underneath the sleek, heavy black fabric of Arthur’s tuxedo jacket and slipping it down over his arms.

Arthur could hardly breathe.

“Oh yeah?” he managed.

“Yeah,” Merlin confirmed, long, deft fingers now undoing Arthur’s tie.

“Then why are you removing it?”

Merlin laughed, tossing Arthur’s tie to the floor and pushing him down onto the mattress, pulling off his own jacket before joining him.

“Shut up, Arthur.”

  _ **____________________________________________________**_

 

Some time later, as they both lay curled up under a mountain of thick blankets, a thought suddenly occurred to Arthur.

“Hey,” he said, “no one ever came looking for us.”

Merlin paused the complicated pattern he’d been slowly swirling against Arthur’s bare chest and considered.

“Huh,” he said. “You’re right. Wow… that’s almost a little offensive, isn’t it?” Arthur laughed. “Do you think they even noticed we left?”

Arthur angled his head toward the doorway, trying to make out any sound from downstairs, as if that would answer the question. “Are they even still up?” he wondered aloud.

“They have to be,” Merlin said. “It’s only… oh  _shit_ ,” he cursed softly as he stared in disbelief at the clock. “It’s after four in the morning.”

“Really?” Arthur asked. “Huh… maybe they did all go to bed. That’s—”

Arthur’s sentence was cut off by a sudden scream of “ ** _SANTA_** _!!!_ ” from what must have been all eleven voices downstairs.

Merlin burst into laughter and buried his face against a combination of Arthur’s chest and the fluffy down comforter enveloping them. “They’re watching Elf.”

Arthur laughed softly, too, reveling in the feeling of Merlin's warm breaths against his skin, and then had another sudden thought.

“Do you think they… knew?” Arthur asked.

Merlin looked up at him. “About us? You mean… maybe they did notice us disappear, but thought better than to follow us?”

Arthur laughed again. “Exactly.”

“Huh,” Merlin said.

Arthur glanced over toward the window, outside which heavily falling snow now glimmered and glowed, silent and bright against the darkness of the night. Arthur felt a peace come over him like he’d never experienced before, warming him down to his toes.

“I’m still sorry you weren’t able to make it home for Christmas,” Arthur murmured sincerely. As absolutely overwhelmed with happiness as he was, he felt a little guilty for it. He never wanted Merlin to feel that he was missing out on anything, especially because of Arthur — and Arthur knew how important his mum was to him, how precious their time together was.

Merlin propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Arthur, blond hair shining against the dark pillow in the moonlight from the window. Arthur stroked a hand up Merlin’s back, and Merlin leaned to kiss him, deep and achingly sweet, then pulled away to look at him again.

“I _am_ home."

  _ **____________________________________________________**_

 

In the morning, when Arthur padded quietly downstairs to the kitchen, the coffee he so desperately required was not his only new mission.

He rounded the corner, and sure enough, there she was: his equally caffeine-dependent sister, looking drastically less lethal than usual in her button-up flannel snowflake pajamas and oversized wide rim glasses, heavy dark hair piled on top of her head in a spectacularly messy bun.

“Good morning,” she said when she saw Arthur, a little too innocently.

“Did you know?” Arthur asked.

Morgana smirked. “Know what?”

Arthur gaped at her. “You _did_ , you _knew_! I can’t believe you knew. You _knew_?!”

Morgana turned away to pull another mug down from the cabinet behind her, and then poured them both a cup of what Arthur knew must be deadly strong coffee.

“How long did you know?” Arthur demanded, a little afraid of the answer.

Morgana walked over and handed him his own steaming mug, which smelled so blessedly wonderful that Arthur nearly forgot about everything else for a moment. Nearly.

Morgana leaned against the kitchen island next to him and took a sip of her coffee, making a small noise somewhere between appreciation and desperation.

“Around the time everything happened with Gwen,” she confessed. “I saw the way you looked at him on that trip… and the two of you just got on so well... you just _clicked_ , Arthur; and then so did everything else. And it was the only thing that made any sense, besides. How else could anyone have let Gwen go?”

Arthur stared at her, and then into space, for what felt like a good hundred years, at least.

“You knew… after Gwen,” he said slowly, reluctantly piecing everything together.

“I probably knew before you did,” she answered matter-of-factly, gazing down into her coffee cup like it was the Christmas savior himself, and then raising her eyes to meet his with her trademark cat-like smile.

“But… all those _dates_ you sent me on!” Arthur protested, still unwilling to accept this turn of events.

Morgana shrugged. “Well, I hoped it wouldn’t take that many — I thought surely you’d break down and tell me after the first three, maybe five,” she explained casually. “I had no idea you would be so stubborn about it. Though I suppose I should have.”

Arthur just stared at her, stunned into silence, not even knowing where to begin.

Morgana picked up the extra mug she’d set down on the island, presumably for Gwen, and nudged Arthur’s arm affectionately as she made to leave the room.

“I’m happy for you, baby brother,” she told him, voice sounding surprisingly sincere. “Merlin’s wonderful. And he really is perfect for you.”

“I—” Arthur attempted.

“Oh! And you’re bringing him to New Year’s dinner. Father already knows, so you can’t back out.”

“ _What?!_ ” Arthur yelped. “ _Father_ knows?”

“Oh no, not about you and Merlin,” she assured him. “Just that it’ll be four of us coming this year. He knows you’re bringing _someone_.”

“Morgana, _why_ —”

“Gwen told him,” she said. “She didn’t mean to. She was just excited.”

Arthur sighed, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his eyes, as if a thorough enough job of that might make this all magically disappear once he reopened them. He didn’t even want to know _when_ or _how_ this conversation had apparently happened.

“Come on Arthur, it’ll be great! You know deep down father just wants you to be happy. He’ll probably be relieved you’re not secretly some sort of gigolo, you know… all those dates.”

Arthur sighed again, crossed his arms over his chest, and then looked at his sister.

“You really think _our_ father is going to be okay with having _two_ gay children?”

“Hey, he’s the one who forced us into choir all those years. _‘Make the Yuletide gay_?’ We’re only doing what we were told.”

In spite of himself, Arthur laughed, and Morgana raised her eyebrows cheekily at him as she swept out of the room, smiling.

Arthur glanced toward the kitchen window, gazing out at the snow again. It was floating down more slowly now; the blanketed forest sparkled in the early dawn sunlight.

Arthur smiled to himself and headed to the cupboard to grab a second mug for Merlin.

 

_**____________________________________________________** _

 

_And like some drunken Elvis singing_

  
_I go singing out of tune_

  
_Singing how I always loved you, darling, and I always will_

 

_**____________________________________________________** _

 

_**End**_ <3

 

 


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